A Cotswold Village; or, country life and pursuits in Gloucestershire ... With illustrations

Front matter

A COTSWOLD VILLAGE A COTSWOLD MANOR HOUSE Frontispiece,] A COTSWOLD VILLAGE OR COUNTRY LIFE AND PURSUITS IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE Bv J. ARTHUR GIBBS " Go, little booke ; God send thee good passage, And specially let this be thy prayere Unto them all that thee will read or hear, Where thou art wrong, after their help to call, Thee to correct in any part or all." Geoffrey Chaucer. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS LONDON JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.

Preface

. r| "O those of my readers who have ever lived ■*- beside a stream, or in an ancient house or time-honoured college, there will always be a peculiar charm in silvery waters sparkling beneath the summer sun. To you the Gothic building, with its carved pinnacles, its warped gables, its mullioned casements and dormer windows, the old oak within, the very inglenook by the great fireplace where the old folks used to sit at home, the ivy trailing round the grey walls, the jessamine, roses, and clematis that in their proper seasons clustered round the porch, — to you all these things will have their charm as long as you live. Therefore, if these pages appeal not to some such, it will not be the subj'ect that is wanting, but the ability of the writer. It is not claimed for my Cotswold village that it is one whit prettier or pleasanter or better in any way than hundreds of other villages in England ; I seek only to record the simple annals of a quiet, oldv

PREFACE.

. VI fashioned Gloucestershire hamlet and the country within walking distance of it. Nor do I doubt that there are manor houses far more beautiful and far richer in history even within a twenty-mile radius of my own home. For instance, the ancient house of Chavenage by Tetbury, or in the opposite direction, where the northern escarpments of the Cotswolds rise out of the beautiful Evesham Vale, those historic mediæval houses of Southam and Postlip. It is often said that in books like these we paint arcadias that never did and never could exist on earth. To this I would answer that there are many such abodes in country places, if only our minds are such as to realise them. And, above all, let us be optimists in literature even though we may be pessimists in life. Let us have all that is joyous and bright in our books, and leave the trials and failures for the realities of life.

Let us in our literature avoid as much as possible the painful side of human nature and the pains and penalties of human weakness ; let us endeavour to depict a state of existence as far as possible approaching the Utopian ideal, though not necessarily the Nirvana of the Buddhists nor the paradise of fools ; let us look not downwards into the depths of black despair, but upwards into the starry heavens ; let us gaze at the golden evening brighten ing in the west. Richard Jefferies has taught us that

PREFACE.

. VII such a literature is possible ; and if we read his best books, we may some day be granted that fuller soul he prayed for and at length obtained. Would that we could all hear, as he heard, the still small voice that whispers in the woods and among the wild flowers and the spreading foliage by the brook ! To any one who might be thinking of becoming for the time being " a tourist," and in that capacity visiting the Cotswolds, my advice is, " Don't." There is really nothing to see. There is nothing, that is to say, which may not be seen much nearer London. And I freely confess that most of the subjects included in this book are usually deemed unworthy of consideration even in the district itself. Still, there are a few who realise that every county in England is more or less a mine of interest, and for such I have written.

Realising my limitations, I have not gone deeply into any single subject ; my endeavour has been to touch on every branch of country life with as light a hand as possible — to amuse rather than to instruct. For, as Washington Irving delightfully sums up the matter : " It is so much pleasanter to please than to instruct, to play the companion rather than the preceptor. What, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could throw into the mass of knowledge? or how am I sure that my sagest deductions may be safe guides for the opinions of others? But in

PREFACE.

VIII writing to amuse, if I fail, the only evil is in my own disappointment. If, however, I can by any lucky chance rub out one wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sorrow ; if I can now and then penetrate through the gathering film of misanthropy, prompt a bene volent view of human nature, and make my reader more in good humour with his fellow beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have written in vain. The first half of Chapter II. originally appeared in the Pall Mall Magazine. Portions of Chapters VII. and VIII., and "The Thruster's Song," have also been published in Baily's Magazine. My thanks are due to the editors for permission to reproduce them. Chapter XII. owes its inspiration to Mr. Madden's excellent work on Shakespeare's connection with sport and the Cotswolds, the " Diary of Master William Silence."

We have no local tradition of any kind about Shakespeare. I am indebted to Miss E. F. Brickdale for the pen-and-ink sketches, and to Colonel Mordaunt for his beautiful photographs. Three of the photographs, however, are by H. Taunt, of Oxford, and a similar number are by Mr. Gardiner, of Fairford. September 1898. CONTENTS. PAGE

PREFACE.

... ..... V

Chapter I. Flying Westwards

...... I The Thames Valley — The Old White Horse — Entering the Cotswolds.

Chapter II

A COTSWOLD VILLAGE . . . . . .II Far from the Madding Crowd — An Old Farmhouse and Its Occupants — The Manor House — Inscription on Porch — Interior of the House — The Garden — A Fairy Spring — -The Village Club — Labouring Folk — Village Politics — The Trout Stream — Flowing Seawards — Village Architecture — The Charm of Antiquity — The Spirit of Sacrifice — Wayside Crosses — Tithe Barns.

Chapter III. Village Characters

...... 39 Quaint Hamlet Folk— The Village Impostor — Rural Economy — Stories of the People — A Curious Analogy — Tom Peregrine, the Keeper — A Standing CONTENTS. X PAGE Dish — A Great Character — Peregrine's Accomplish ments and Proclivities — Farmers and Foxes — Concerning Churchwardens — The Village Quack — An Excellent Prescription — His Lecture — How the Old Fox was Found — A Good Sort — Heroes of the Hamlet — Political Meetings — Humours of the Poll — Gloucestershire Farmers.

Chapter IV. The Language Of The Cotswolds, With Some Ancient Songs And

LEGENDS ... 69 Strange Travellers — Smoking Concerts — The Carter's Song — Village Choirs — The Chedworth Band — Sense of Humour of the Natives — Their Geography " a Bit Mixed " — A Large Family — Noblesse Oblige — Rustic Legends — Names of Fields — The Cotswold Dialect — How to Talk It — An Ancient Ballad — Tom Peregrine Recites — Roger Plowman's Excursion — An Expensive Luncheon — Oxtail Soup — " The Turmut Hower."

Chapter V. On The Wolds

....... 98 Varied Amusements — Nature on the Hills — The Mysteries of Scent — Partridge-Shooting — A Mixed Bag — Plover — Pigeon-Shooting with Decoys — Bird Life — Sunset on the Downs — A Wild, Deserted Country — An Old Dog Fox.

Chapter VI

A GALLOP OVER THE WALLS . . . . 1 20 An October Meet— Cub-Hunting— The Old Fox Again ! A Fast Gallop over the Walls— The Charm of Uncertainty — Fliers of the Hunt — A Narrow Escape— A Check — A Reliable Hound— Failure of Scent — An Excellent Tonic. CONTENTS. XI

Chapter VII. Page

A COTSWOLD TROUT STREAM . . ' .134 Loch Leven Trout — Curious Capture of an Eel— The Author Catches a Red-Herring — Macomber Falls — A Sad Episode — South Country Streams — Course of the Coin — Charles Kingsley on Fishing — A May- Fly Stream — Evening Fishing — Dry-Fly Dogmas — Flies for the Coin — Scarcity of Poachers — An Evening Walk by the River — Spring's Delights.

Chapter VIII. When The May-fly Is Up

. . . . -153 Derby Day on the Coin — A Good Sportsman — The Right Fly — Pleasures of the Country — Peregrine's Quaint Expressions — Sport with the Olive Dun — A Fine Trout — Effects of Sheep-Washing — A Good Basket — Life by the Brook — A Summer's Night — ■ In the Heart of England.

Chapter IX. Burford

A COTSWOLD TOWN . . . 1 76 Curious Names — The Windrush — Burford Priory — An Empty Shell — The Kingmaker — Lord Falkland — Speaker Lenthall — Bibury Races — An Old Tradition — Valued Relics — Burford Church — Mr. Oman's Discovery — Burford during the Civil Wars.

Chapter X

A STROLL THROUGH THE COTSWOLDS . . 1 96 The Old Coaching Days — Fairford — Anglo-Saxon Relics — Hatherop — Coln-St.-Aldwyns — The "Knights Templar" of Quenington — A Haunt of Ancient Peace — Bibury Village — Ancient Barrows CONTENTS. XII PAGE 249 —The Prehistoric Age— Deserted .Villages— The Philosopher's Stone— True Nobleness— On Battues — Roman Remains— Chedworth Woods— An Old Manor House.

Chapter XI. Cotswold Pastimes

. . . . . .224 Whitsun Ale— Sports of Various Kinds — The Peregrine Family at Cricket — Prehistoric Cricket — A Bad Ground — A "Pretty" Ball — Charles Dickens on Cricket — Dumkins and Podder, Limited — How Dumkins Hit a "Sixer" — Downfall of "Podder"— Bourton-on-the-Water C.C. — A Plague of Wasps — The Treatment ,of Cricket Grounds— The Author's Recipe — Reflections on Modern Cricket.

Chapter XII. The Cotswolds Three Hundred Years Ago

The Centre of Elizabethan Sport — A Digression on South Africa — The Halo of Association— A Day's Stag-Hunting in 1592 — A Benighted Sportsman — " A Goodly Dwelling and a Rich " — An Old English Gentleman — Shakespeare on Hounds — He Describes the Run — The Death of the Stag — The Ancestral Peregrine — Bacon not Wanted — A " Black Ousel " — The Charm of Music — Shakespeare's Dream — A Hawking Expedition — Peregrine, the Parson, and the Poet — Methods and Language of Falconry — A Flight at a Heron — Peregrine Views a Fox.

Chapter XIII. Cirencester

....... 277 Roman Remains — The Corinium Museum — The Church — Cirencester House — The Park — The Abbey — The " Mop " or Hiring Fair — A Great Hunt- CONTENTS. XIII PAGE ing Centre — A Varied Country — The Badminton Hounds — Lord Bathurst's Hounds — The Cotswold Hounds — Charles Travess — A Born Genius — The Cricklade Hounds — The Right Sort of Horse — The Oaksey District — The Heythrop Hounds — A De fence of Hard Riding — A Day in the Vale — A Hunting Poem.

Chapter XIV. Spring In The Cotswolds

. . . . . 311 Habits of Moorhens — Mallard and Swan — Nuthatches — Woodpeckers — Humane Traps — Badgers — Fox-terriers — Scotch Deerhounds — Retrievers — Crayfish — The Rookery — Jackdaws — Foxes— Artificial Earths — Fox among 'Sheep — Foxes and Fowls — Poultry Claims — Observations on Scent — The Hygrometer — How Trout are Netted — Scarcity of Otters — Water-Voles.

Chapter XV. The Promise Of May

...... 34O Wild Flowers — Cottage Gardens — The Paths of Literature — Description of a Horse — Beauty of Trees — Their Loss Irreparable as the Loss of Friends — A Fine Type of Englishman — Lines in Memory of W. D. Llewelyn.

Chapter XVI. Summer Days On The Cotswolds

. . - 356 A Walk in the'' Fields — Hedgerow Flowers — The Brookside — By "the Pill" — Remarks on Gray — A Fine Piece of Miniature Scenery — The Cricket Ground — The Book of Nature — At the Ford — Habits of Observation — In the Conyger Wood — CONTENTS. XIV PAGE The Home of the Kingfisher — A Limestone Quarry — The Great Stone Floor of the Earth— Nature's Endless Cycle — Beauty of the Ash — Hedgehogs — Trout and Snake — Sunset on the Hills.

Chapter XVII. Autumn

38l Remarks on Country Life — Thrashing — The Flail — Gipsies — Harvest Feasts — Fifty Years Ago — The Wolds in Autumn — By the Stream — Wildfowl— Migration of Birds — Lapwings — Winter Visitants — Thunderstorms — Glow-Worms — A Brilliant Meteor — Night on the Hills — The " Blowing- Stone " — Christmas Day on the Cotswolds — A Solar Halo— Hamlet Festivities — Tom Peregrine Baffled — The Mummers Play — The Victorian Era — The True Days of " Merrie England " — Carpe Diem.

Chapter XVIII. When The Sun Goes Down

. . . . 4II A Glorious Panorama — Peregrine as Secretary — The Light of Setting Suns — Conclusion.

Appendix

. GEORGE RIDLER'S OVEN . . . 419 INDEX . , LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE A COTSWOLD MANOR HOUSE ..... Frontispiece STOKE POGES CHURCH ......... I THE OLD MANOR HOUSE II INSCRIPTION ON PORCH OF MANOR HOUSE . . . Facing 14 INTERIOR OF MANOR HOUSE „ l6 IN THE GARDEN ,,26 COTSWOLD COTTAGES 39 A FARMHOUSE BY THE COLN Facing 42 AN OLD COTTAGE .......... 69 THE HAMLET ......... Facing 78 ON THE WOLDS .......... 98 OXEN PLOUGHING Facing 106 THC OLD CUSTOMER ........ 120 THE OLD MILL, ABLINGTON ... . 1 34 THE COLN NEAR BIBURY ...... Facing I40 A BRIDGE OVER THE COLN . • 'S3 A DISH OF FISH Facing 172 BURFORD PRIORY 176 BURFORD PRIORY ........ Facing 186 THE MANOR HOUSE, COLN-ST.-ALDWYNS ...... I96 BIBURY STREET ........ Facing 206 ARLINGTON ROW (( 212 VILLAGE CRICKETERS 22+ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. XVI PAGE HAWKING 249 BJBURY COURT F"""S 25» THE ABBEY GATEWAY, CIRENCESTER ■ 277 MARKET-PLACE, CIRENCESTER Facing 2i,2 AN OLD BARN ...... ■ • 3" THE "PILL" BRIDGE Faci"S 3'4 IN BIBURY VILLAGE ......-•• 34° SIDE view OF manor HOUSE .....

Facing 342 BIBURY MILL 35*> below the " PILL " Facing 366 ABLINGTON MANOR ......••■• 3°' AN OLD-FASHIONED LABOURING COUPLE . . . Facing 388 COLN-ST.-ALDWYNS A COTSWOLD VILLAGE.

Chapter I. Flying Westwards

LONDON is becoming miserably hot and dusty ; everybody who can get away is rushing off, north, south, east, and west, some to the seaside, others to pleasant country houses. Who will fly with me westwards to the land of golden sunshine and silvery trout streams, the land of breezy uplands and valleys nestling under limestone hills, where the scream of the railway whistle is seldom heard and the smoke FLYING WESTWARDS. [Ch. 2 of the factory darkens not the long summer days? Away, in the smooth " Flying Dutchman " ; past Windsor's glorious towers and Eton's playing-fields ; past the little village and churchyard where a century and a half ago the famous " Elegy " was written, and where, hard by " those rugged elms, that yew tree's shade," yet rests the body of the mighty poet, Gray. How those lines run in one's head this bright summer evening, as from our railway carriage we note the great white dome of Stoke House peeping out amid the elms ! whilst every field reminds us of him who wrote those lilting stanzas long, long ago.

" Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasing shade ! Ah, fields, beloved in vain ! Where once my careless childhood strayed, A stranger yet to pain : I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow ; As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.' But soon we are flashing past Reading, where Sutton's nursery gardens are bright with scarlet and gold, and blue and white ; every flower that can be made to grow in our climate grows there, we may be sure. But there is no need of garden flowers now, when the fields and hedges, even the railway banks, are painted with the lovely blue of wild geraniums and harebells, the gold of birdsfoot trefoil and Saint John's wort, and the white and pink of convolvulus or bindweed.

We are passing through some of the THE THAMES VALLEY. 3 richest scenery in the Thames valley. There, on the right, is Mapledurham, a grand mediæval building, surrounded by such a wealth of stately trees as you will see nowhere else. The Thames runs practically through the grounds. What a glorious carpet of gold is spread over these meadows when the buttercups are in full bloom ! Now comes Pangbourne, with its lovely weir, where the big Thames trout love to lie. Pangbourne used to be one of the prettiest villages on the river ; but its popularity has spoilt it. As we pass onwards, many other country houses — Purley, Basildon, and Hardwick — with their parks and clustering cottages, add their charm to the view. There are the beautiful woods of Streatley : hanging copses clothe the sides of the hills, and pretty villages nestle amid the trees.

But soon the scene changes : the glorious valley Father Thames has scooped out for himself is left behind ; we are crossing the chalk uplands. On all sides are vast stretches of unfenced arable land, though here and there a tiny village with its square-towered Norman church peeps out from an oasis of green fields and stately elm trees. On the right the Chiltern Hills are seen in the background, and Wittenham Clump stands forth — a conspicuous object for miles. The country round Didcot reminds one very much of the north of France : between Calais and Paris one notices the same chalk soil, the same flat arable fields, and the same old-fashioned farmhouses and gabled cottages. But now we have entered the grand old Berkshire vale. " Fields and hedges, hedges and fields ; peace FLYING WESTWARDS. [CH. 4 and plenty, plenty and peace.

I should like to take a foreigner down the vale of Berkshire in the end of May, and ask him what he thought of old England." Thus wrote Charles Kingsley forty years ago, when times were better for Berkshire farmers. But the same old fields and the same old hedges still remain — only we do not appreciate them as much as did the author of " Westward Ho ! " Steventon, that lovely village with its gables and thatched roofs, its white cottage walls set with beams of blackest oak, its Norman church in the midst of spreading chestnuts and leafy elms, appears from the railway to be one of the most old-fashioned spots on earth. This vale is full of fine old trees ; but in many places the farmers have spoilt their beauty by lopping off the lower branches because the grass will not grow under their wide-spreading foliage.

It is only in the parks and woodlands that the real glory of the timber remains. And now we may notice what a splendid hunting country is this Berkshire vale. The fields are large and entirely grass ; the fences, though strong, are all " flying " ones — posts and rails, too, are frequent in the hedges. Many a fine scamper have the old Berkshire hounds enjoyed over these grassy pastures, where the Rosy Brook winds its sluggish course ; and we trust they will continue to do so for many years to come. Long may that day be in coming when the sound of the horn is no longer heard in this delightful country ! High up on the hill the old White Horse soon appears in view, cut in the velvety turf of the I.] THE WHITE HORSE HILL 5 rolling chalk downs. But, in the words of the old ballad, " The ould White Horse wants zettin' to rights."

He wants " scouring " badly. A stranger, if shown this old relic, the centre of a hundred legends, famous the whole world over, would find it difficult to recognise any likeness to a fiery steed in those uncertain lines of chalk. Nevertheless, this is the monument King Alfred made to commemorate his victory over the Danes at Ashdown. So the tradi tion of the country-side has had it for a thousand years, and shall a thousand more. The horse is drawn as galloping. Frank Buckland took the following measurements of him : The total length is one hundred and seventy yards ; his eye is four feet across ; his ear fifteen yards in length ; his hindleg is forty-three yards long. Doubtless the full proportions of the White Horse are not kept scoured nowadays ; for a few weeks ago I was up on the hill and took some of the measurements myself.

I could not make mine agree with Frank Buckland's : for instance, the ear appeared to be seven yards only in length, and not fifteen ; so that it would seem that the figure is gradually growing smaller. It is the head and forelegs that want scouring worst of all. There is little sign of the trench, two feet deep, which in Buckland's time formed the outline of the horse ; the depth of the cutting is now only a matter of a very few inches. The view from this hill is a very extensive one, embracing the vale from Bath almost to Reading, FLYING WESTWARDS. [Ch the whole length of the Cotswold Hills, as well as the Chilterns, stretching away eastwards towards Aylesbury, and far into Buckinghamshire. Beneath your feet lie many hundred thousand acres of green pastures, varied in colour during summer and autumn by golden wheat-fields bright with yellow charlock and crimson poppies.

It has been said that eleven counties are visible on clear days. The White Horse at Westbury, further down the line, represents a horse in a standing position. He reflects the utmost credit on his grooms ; for not only are his shapely limbs " beautifully and wonderfully made," but the greatest care is taken of him. The Westbury horse is not in reality nearly so large as this one at Uffington, but he is a very beautiful feature of the country. I paid him a visit the other day, and was surprised to find he was very much smaller than he appears from the railway. Glancing over a recent edition of Tom Hughes' book, " The Scouring of the White Horse," I found the following lines : — "In all likelihood the pastime of 1857 will be the last of his race ; for is not the famous Saxon (or British) horse now scheduled to an Act of Parliament as an ancient monument which will be maintained in time to come as a piece of prosaic business, at the cost of other than Berkshire men reared within sight of the hill ?

" Alas ! it is too true. There has been no pastime since 1857. It would have been a splendid way of com memorating the "diamond jubilee" if a scouring I] SCOURING OF THE WHITE HORSE. 7 had been organised in 1897. Forty years have passed since the last pastime, with its backsword play and " climmin a greasy pole for a leg of mutton," its race for a pig and a cheese ; and, oddly enough, the previous scouring had taken place in the year of the Queen's accession, sixty-one years ago. It would be enough to make poor Tom Hughes turn in his grave if he knew that the old White Horse had been turned out to grass, and left to look after himself for the rest of his days ! Those were grand old times when the Berkshire, Gloucestershire, and Somersetshire men amused them selves by cracking each other's heads and cudgel playing for a gold-laced hat and a pair of buckskin breeches ; when a flitch of bacon was run for by donkeys ; and when, last, but not least, John Morse, of Uffington, "grinned agin another chap droo hos [horse] collars, a fine bit of spwoart, to be sure, and made the folks laaf."

I here quote from Tom Hughes' book, " The Scouring of the White Horse," to which I must refer my readers for further interesting particulars. There are some days during summer when the sunlight is so beautiful that every object is invested with a glamour and a charm not usually associated with it. Such a day was that of which we write. As we were gliding out of Swindon the sun was beginning to descend. From a Great Western express, running at the rate of sixty miles an hour through picturesque country, you may watch the sun setting amidst every variety of scenery. Now some hoary grey tower stands out against the intense [Ch. 8 FLYING WESTWARDS. brightness of the western sky ; now a tracery of fine trees shades for a time the dazzling light ; then suddenly the fiery furnace is revealed again, reflected perhaps in the waters of some stream or amid the reeds and sedges of a mere, where a punt is moored containing anglers in broad wideawake hats.

Gradu ally a dark purple shade steals over the long range of chalk hills ; white, clean-looking roads stand out clearly defined miles away on the horizon ; the smoke that rises straight up from some ivy-covered homestead half a mile away is bluer than the evening sky — a deep azure blue. The horizon is clear in the south, but in the north-west dark, but not forbidding clouds are rising ; fantastic cloudlets float high up in the firmament ; rooks coming home to roost are plainly visible several miles away against the brilliant western sky. This Great Western Railway runs through some of the finest bits of old England. Not long ago, in travelling from Chepstow to Gloucester, we were fairly amazed at the surpassing beauty of the views. It was May-day, and the weather was in keeping with the occasion.

The sight of the old town of Chepstow and the silvery Wye, as we left them be hind us, was fine enough ; but who can describe the magnificent panorama presented by the wide Severn at low tide ? Yellow sands, glittering like gold in the dazzling sunshine, stretched away for miles ; beyond these a vista of green meadows, with the distant Cotswold Hills rising out of dreamy haze ; waters of chrysolite, with fields of malachite beyond ; the azure sky overhead flecked with clouds of pearl and 1.3 ENTERING THE COTSWOLDS. 9 opal, and all around the pear orchards in full bloom. While on the subject of scenery, may I enter a protest against the change the Great Western Railway has lately made in the photographs which adorn their carriages ? They used to be as beautiful as one could wish ; lately, however, the colouring has been lavished on them with no sparing hand.

These " photo chromes " are unnatural and impossible, whereas the old permanent photographs were very beautiful. At Kemble, with its old manor house and stone roofed cottages, we say goodbye to the Vale of White Horse ; for we have entered the Cotswolds. Stretch ing from Broadway to Bath, and from Birdlip to Burford, and containing about three hundred square miles, is a vast tract of hill country, intersected by numerous narrow valleys. Probably at one period this district was a rough, uncultivated moor. It is now cultivated for the most part, and grows excellent barley. The highest point of this extensive range is eleven hundred and thirty-four feet, but the average altitude would not exceed half that height. Almost every valley has its little brook. The district is essentially a " stone country " ; for all the houses and most of their roofs are built of the local limestone, which lies everywhere on these hills within a few inches of the surface.

There is no difficulty in obtain ing plenty of stone hereabouts. The chief character istics of the buildings are their antiquity and Gothic quaintness. The air is sharp and bracing, and the climate, as is inevitable on the shallow, porous soil of the oolite hills, wonderfully dry and invigorating. FLYING WESTWARDS. [Ch. I. 10 " Lands of gold have been found, and lands of spices and precious merchandise ; but this is the land of health" Thus wrote Richard Jefferies of the downs, and thus say we of the Cotswolds. And now our Great Western express is gliding into Cirencester, the ancient capital of the Cotswold country. How fair the old place seems after the dirt and smoke of London ! Here town and country are blended into one, and everything is clean and fresh and picturesque. The abbey church, as you view it from the top of the market-place, has a charm unsur passed by any other sacred building in the land.

In what that charm lies I have often wondered. Is it the marvellous symmetry of the whole graceful pile, as the eye, glancing down the square Norman tower and along the pierced battlements and elaborate pinnacles, finally rests on the empty niches and traceried oriel windows of the magnificent south porch? I cannot say in what the charm exactly consists, but this stately Gothic fane has a grandeur as impressive as it is unexpected, recalling those wondrous words of Ruskin's : " I used to feel as much awe in gazing at the buildings as on the hills, and could believe that God had done a greater work in breathing into the narrowness of dust the mighty spirits by whom its haughty walls had been raised and its burning legends written, than in lifting the rock of granite higher than the clouds of heaven, and veiling them with their various mantle of purple flower and shadowy pine."